Oxfords
by Dentelle-noir
Summary: AU 3x4. Same mindless jocks. Same big-breasted cheerleader girlfriend. Trowa Barton knew what was expected of him. And he wanted that too. At least, he thought he did.
1. Here we go

**Oxford's**

_By:DentelleNoir_

* * *

_**Warnings**: _YAOI. CLOSED MINDEDNESS, homophobics, and superficial parent bashing.

Discalimer: Don't own the Gundam boys. If I did, I would probably keep them in a box locked tightly under my bed and only let them out to play once in a while. So be glad I don't because you wouldn't get to see them as much. Because I'm mean. Sorry. I just love my Tro-baby so much... WHAAAAAA!!!

**Author's Note: _This is a re-post._**The original was taken from the sight as was my original author's name when another story of mine was complained against. Use this as a warning. One complaint is all it takes and they kick you off right quick like!

BUT!!!!

It's also been added to in certain area's, some of the scenes taking on a different perspective. If you like dit the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

**Summary:** AU 3x4. Same mindless jocks. Same big-bested cheerleader girlfriend. Trowa Barton knew what was expected of him. And he wanted that too. At least, he thought he did.

* * *

****

**Chapter 1: Here We Go**

The black mustang flew down the road as pedestrians and cars jumped out of the way of the roaring machine, or as Trowa mused, the roaring driver. Mr. Michael Barton, newest head of development at the main headquarters of W Corps, flew down the suburban roads of the new town he and his son just moved to, enjoying every minute in his new promotion gift to himself.

His son, on the other hand, was gripping the dashboard, knuckles white, as the car squealed off the pavement into the parking lot of his new school. Yes, he knew his father wanted to make a good first impression for him by driving the Mustang, but he didn't really care. He was always able to find his group where ever they went, and Mayville public high would be no different: There were preppy jocks everywhere.

His aging father, though he'd never tell him that, smiled brightly as his prize son stepped out to make his first appearance.

One shining black leather Oxford shoe, then it's pair. After followed a set of perfectly tight cut, but sinfully innocent dark brown pants encasing the almost too-skinny stomach and hugging his lithe hips. Then, ducking out from the low roof as agile as a dancer, came the tight, long sleeved deep blue turtleneck, encasing his lean but well muscled frame and broad shoulders. Neck down, he was he was good looking. Neck up, he was told he was a god. He didn't believe it though. Deep continually serious green eyes were framed with thick, long, eyelashes all accented with thin, elegant eyebrows. But sadly, as his many girlfriends had told him, only one was to be seen. The other half of his face was hidden by sweeping brown locks, highlighted red, that danced in the wind giving him an air of mystery. He knew would have a permanent fan club following him by the end of the day...again.

"Show 'em your stuff, boy." His father shined his perfectly white teeth out to him before winking, and driving off far to fast for a school zone. Trowa knew what was expected of him, swim team, basketball team, great grades, 'going-somewhere' friends, and of course a trophy cheerleader girlfriend as empty headed and big breasted as every other girl he had ever dated.

The perfect match to the perfect boy. Which was what he wanted too... Probably. Sounded good anyway... Except for the fact he'd really rather be left alone.

But, that was insane, of course. His father would never hear of it anyway... Why dwell on what one can not have, right? On with the day.

His thoughts started to flood him as he made his way into the school, not really caring about the gapping looks he got from a good amount of girls as he walked by.

_Trowa set up his binder for his first day at the new school. At least it was only a day or two into the second semester. He wouldn't miss much._

_A knock sounded and into his dark sanctum walked his father, "Have you figured out what you'll wear on your first day of school? Got to look good for the ladies, M'boy. New school means new girl... How about these?" He dug through his son's closet despite the ice daggers his son's eyes threw at his back as he pulled out a pair of pants that clung to his slim form almost indecently, "These always looked good on you. The girls will be a' drooling! Now, for a shirt, how about..." His father reached for the deep red silk shirt in his closet, but Trowa was faster, and pulled out a less provocative, and not to mention, his favorite, deep blue turtleneck, gaining him a resigned almost pout from his father._

_Why he always wanted to make him noticed, he wasn't sure. His father was always so superficial. He always pushed him outside the door to play basketball with the other boys when he'd much fathered finish A Tale of Two Cites._

Now, schedule in hand, he made his way towards his first class, and his first impression. This was going to be just like every other school: jock friends, bimbo girls, wild parties he'd be forced into...

But this time, fate had something else in store for him.

"And our startling beautiful, braided hero pulled himself from the depths of hell known to mortals as... The locker... And from the deep came... his math book!" Duo Maxwell, class clown and all around grinning fool, narrated as he straightened and tried to elicit some kind of amused look from his stoic boyfriend. A roll of the other boy's eyes told him he had hit the mark. He rung his arm around his boyfriend's neck, holding his lover closer despite the glare of death he was given.

A light snickering was heard from beside the braided clown. Out from the library and towards his friends, new book in hand and usual bright, happy smile adorning his face walked a petite blonde.

He was smiling his cheerful, full face smile, hair baby blonde and falling around his innocent, child-like cherub face like a halo to his angelic air. The boy was dreams, hopes, and inner beauty, displayed outwards for all the world to admire and worship. But anyone who knew him well, knew that he was not as innocent as the world's eye painted such a look.

"Hey Quatre. New book?"

"Old one, actually. 'A Tale of Two Cites'. By Charles Dickens, Duo." Quatre replied lightly, leaning against the lockers beside his long time friends.

"Hey, ya know I gotta like anything who's name is 'Dick'-ens. Get it...I'm gay." He tried on his unamused boyfriend, on! You're such a stick-in-the-mud!"

However valiant his effort, he was still ignored, save the usual chastising 'Duo!' from his blushing blonde friend he always got being that crude.

Next to the group came a Chinese boy, shoulder length jet black stands dropping into his face with tight black jeans and a loose white button-up shirt adorning his toned muscled frame. He himself had a long line of females who would give everything to try and 'change him' so they had even a ghost of a chance. But that wasn't about to happen. Wufei Chang would never leave his own boyfriend, Eric, for anything.

He took his usual spot against the locker, a bit further away from the more close knit group, and lifted his thin eyebrow, "Did any of you see the new transfer student? He's quite the looker. Seems to be more of the jock type. Doesn't really look like an idiot though, who'd a thought."

"Oh, yeah...Tell me more." Duo started as they all were back to their feet and gravitated towards class.

Trowa found a seat about half-way down the class, right against the wall. The only thing he hated was the fact that the desks were grouped in two's. He'd be forced to sit with someone. He knew that the seat beside him was already chosen by someone from the seating plan, "G", it said. Perhaps that was his nickname?

With the ring of the first bell came a flood of people.

Center stage: Trowa Barton in the role of "the new student". Time to dance.

He sat himself atop the desk, reclining casually. It was all about first impressions. His feet dangled off the edge and he watched the people file in. A few nerds took their respective seats at the front of the class, a few shy people near the sides closer to the front, since they wouldn't stand up to the last people to come in. His people.

Soon, they came. First, a short, doppy looking boy with an unusually large chest: Football. Another sporty guy was talking with the first, then came the girls.

They glanced up, the whispers of a new student caught in the ears. Time to dance. Trowa moved, his face tilting just enough to point towards the group. And flick. His eyes opened, pinning the group with emerald lights and drowning them in his wake. He had them hook, line, and sinker.

It was all too easy. All the same steps to a tired old dance. A waltz of lifeless, superficial obligation. And damn it, he had enough.

He knew where they would go. One look over, and they were surrounding his vision. All four of them spoke at once, all of them about the stupidest things, and one relatively quick one, obviously the leader, started to sink into the seat next to him. The stage was set.

"BACK!! BACK FOUL BLONDES!!! BACK TO THE SPORT YARD FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!!!" Came this loud over-dramatic voice from behind, and the girls parted like the red sea.

The girl was fairly short, a little on the heavy set side. She held out a necklace holding an over-done gothic cross to any of the girls in her way as if warding off the foulest of demons. She then made her way through the dead-air the girls created, hissing with the necklace out to the sitting girl, name given as Sylvia. Immediately standing, the girls ran, leaving Trowa to stare in amazement at the new girl.

She could only be described as dark. She had short, to the point of spiky, died black hair, and wore black chipping nail polish on her chewed-back fingernails. Dark black eye shadow and mascara framed and matched her ebony eyes. She wore a long dress, the same blackened crimson as her lips and Trowa caught just of hint of fishnet stockings before they were cut off.

His eyes were fixed to her feet, though: large, heavy looking, scuffed, black, leather work boots, tied only half way up, so the tongue and tops hung limply and flopped as she moved. The laces were caked in dirt and flopped down grazing the floor.

Ungracefully, she pulled out the newly vacated chair, flopped down, and seemed to melt into it comfortable as the day was long. She seemed at ease no matter what she did. Saying what she wanted, doing what she saw fit.

In contrast, Trowa simply slid over the edge of the desk, nimbly as a cat, pulled out the chair, and practically floated into it. His eyes never leaving the girl beside him.

"Name's G. As in 'Golly Gee? I wonder if that's what her name actually starts with?' And you are...?"

"Trowa. Trowa Barton." He answered automatically, still dumbstruck by the girl beside him. She was so strange. She didn't seem to care that everyone seemed to avoid her, or the fact he hadn't seen anyone else who looked even remotely like her at this school.

"Well, Trowa. Didn't your parents ever teach you it's impolite to stare at people?" she retorted rather sharply, as her eyebrow arched at him in annoyance. "What, never saw a goth before? Well, deal with it, or move. If your going to stare like that, I think I'd prefer you to move, though."

Trowa was, well, flabbergasted to say the least. But he caught himself, and found the girl incredibly interesting. He quickly locked his slacked jaw, and straightened his posture again, and still found himself watching her.

"I apologies for my rather rude behavior. Forgive me, G." He then found himself at a lack of what to say, so he started with something rather stupid in his opinion. He wouldn't normally just go out and say what he thought. It just wasn't him, but it seemed to be the right thing to do, "I hope no one is sitting here, because I would like to stay here. The way you cut through the airheads could come in awfully handy for a break in the morning."

G was about to come up with a cruel and unusual retort, her specialty, when what he said sunk in, and she just tilted her head, her eyebrow raised, a 'You're alright...' half smile with a hint of an evil glint gracing her face.

"So, Trowa. What is a guy like you..." she nodded down from his probably Gap sweater to the pressed pants, then to the shining black oxfords, "doing slumming it with a nocturnal goddess like moi?" She flourished, extending her black painted fingers out as if bowing, the long black billowing sleeves slightly receding, draping down to swish in the flourish.

Trowa cocked an eyebrow, and the ghost of a smirk haunted his face for the first time in a while. "Not sure yet. I'll tell you when I figure that out. But you certainly are refreshing."

He'd never had as much fun in English in his entire life. He loved English, of course, he loved writing (although no one save a select few teachers knew that), but G was funny and insightful at the same time. She was smart, and witty. Unusual, but funny.

Second period science was dull as usual. The minute he walked in he was again surrounded by the cheerleaders and jocks. He couldn't figure it out, he had always felt a detachment to his friends, but this time, he felt almost repulsed. But of course, he was just being stupid, a bad day or something. These were the type of people he always hung with. He, of course, liked them... Right?

"We play basketball at lunch, are you in?" Nick, a bulky football player he had sat beside in science, asked as they made their way through the full lunch halls. He was trying to avoid the blonde brigade whose leader, Sylvia, was targeting him. He wasn't sure why he hated her so much, maybe because he was sure he had dated her, or a carbon copy, at least eight billion times before.

He froze in his musings when one different blonde caught his eye. Walking down the hall towards where he stood was a petite girl, slightly shorter, with cropped hair so blonde it looked like a newborn's with clear ice blue eyes directed towards a warn copy of A Tale of Two Cities. She walked as if she was dancing to her own music, swaying gently, almost gliding closer. He didn't even know her name, but he was instantly taken, his heart speeding at the sight like never before, she seemed to just pull him to her. He could almost feel her breathing up against him although they were parted by at least a hundred people. Then she and her braided companion turned the corner, and Trowa was left to stare at the spot where she turned.

In front of his vision, a boy, about his age with the deepest blue piercing oriental eyes and an unruly mop of chocolate hair, walked through his gaze, starring directly at him. Then he passed through the same corner as the blonde, and smirked as if he knew something Trowa did not; the knowledge bestowed upon him by fate itself.

It took Trowa's escort a few moments of pondering why he was so still all of a sudden before he followed his line of site, and realization hit. "Didn't know that about you, Trowa... Most of your types wear the earring in the right, 'ya know." Nick continued down the hall as Trowa blinked following him.

"What are you talking about? Right ear? That would make me a fag." Trowa retorted sharply.

Nick stopped in his tracks and he noticed a few evil death glares directed his way. "What did you say?"

"An earring in your right ear means your a queer. Why would I wear one?" Trowa repeated, looking slightly affronted at the comment.

"Watch your tongue, asshole." A girl by them snorted before snobbily walking past, her shoulder clipping him as she went.

"An earring means you're homosexual or gay, yes. You were looking at the short haired blonde, right?" Nick asked, and Trowa felt his stomach clench. "That was a guy." Trowa's stomach knotted around itself and he felt his head spin. "He is gay though, so you probably have a chance..." Nick continued as all colour drained from Trowa and his balance started to falter.

"A am NOT a QUEER!!! I didn't know that was GUY!" Trowa sputtered, his brain practically yelling at how wrong and disgusting it was. His mind reeled and his stomach lurched as he turned on his heels and quickly made his way away from Nick's questioning gaze and to the empty boys washroom.

Locking the bathroom stall he sank to his knees, bracing himself as he wretched, purging his stomach in heaves. Oh, he could just see it now, if his father found out that he had been watching...and wanting...

Another wave of nausea racked his body as the bile stung his throat, nothing else left in his empty stomach to purge. He didn't know it was a guy! He thought it was a girl! The guy was a total farie! He was just trying to make unsuspecting STRAIGHT guys like him think he was a girl. Right...

Although, he didn't seem a mean spirited person.... Trowa hadn't even met the person. He didn't know anything about him. He hadn't done anything to him. He would be awfully hypocritical for hating him without even knowing him. He wouldn't be any better than his father or his so-called friends. He couldn't hate him for something he had no control over. He seemed so innocent and beautiful with a smile so- NO!!! It was his tricks again. Being gay is WRONG. He chose to be a fag! Trowa was not a queer because he chose not to be. Trowa did NOT want him! Never.

He gulped air down quickly, trying to tame his raging stomach still heaving over his heavy conscience and pulled himself against the wall. The cool cement against his burning head felt good and the buzzing halogen lights gave his mind something to focus on other than his stormy thoughts.

This was a trick. A test. He would not yield.

He heard light, almost non-existent steps coming into the bathroom. Trowa tried to be as quiet as he could, so as not to be noticed, as the jet black, highly polished boots under straight cut jeans went about his business, and washed his hands.

Trowa's breathing was still shaky and his stomach still twisted. He didn't figure anyone could hear him, so he was surprised when polished boots stopped and faced the stall he was in.


	2. Damn it all

**Oxford's**

........................... ........................

By:DentelleNoir

_**Warnings**:_ YAOI. CLOSED MINDEDNESS, homophobics, and superficial parent bashing.

Discalimer: Don't own the Gundam boys. If I did, I would probably keep them in a box locked tightly under my bed and only let them out to play once in a while. So be glad I don't because you wouldn't get to see them as much. Because I'm mean. Sorry. I just love my Tro-baby so much... WHAAAAAA!!!

**Author's Note:** **_This is a re-post._**The original was taken from the sight as was my original author's name when another story of mine was complained against. Use this as a warning. One complaint is all it takes and they kick you off right quick like!

BUT!!!!

It's also been added to in certain area's, some of the scenes taking on a different perspective. If you like dit the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

**Chapter 2: Damn It All**

"Are you all right?" a cold, almost callous voiced asked, seeming almost obligated to ask and apathetic to any answer given anyway. "Do you need a nurse?"

"No. But thanks anyway." Trowa answered between deep breaths in his confident baritone despite his internal struggle. But polished boots stayed, and seemed to recline against the wall across from his stall.

Heero was intrigued. Not a second ago the boy was in the stall puking, and now he spoke as if nothing had happened and was in complete control of the universe. The baritone was steady with an air of maturity and intelligence, while still cool to everything. He liked the boy's attitude already. "What happened?" A deep but quiet sigh followed and then a tense silence.

"I don't even know you." Heero started logically, "I don't believe anything you say could ruin your image, and I think those who spread rumors should to be shot. Personally, I'd love to be the one to do it. Now If you think I'd say something about you, you can say I was threatening shooting people, so just spit out whatever it was that has someone as controlled as you seem to be, vomiting."

Heero wasn't sure why he was speaking to him. Did he truthfully care? Any other time he would just walk out. Duo would be on the floor in giggles if he knew Heero willingly started a conversation, let alone with a stranger. Quatre'd be proud.

But he would never tell either of them. "Just don't tell my friends I'm going out of my way to speak to someone or I'll have to kill you."

A sharp chuckle came from the bathroom stall, "I was watching a guy down the hall. I didn't know it was a guy. I though it was a girl, but I wanted him... I really wanted him... I'm NOT a fag! And I wanted him... My dad's going to kill me. But I didn't know it was a guy! But then, how could I not!! Oh Fuck! I'm going to hell!"

Heero was dumbstruck.

"Shit, I shouldn't of said that..." Trowa instantly regretted saying anything. He didn't even know this person, just the cold voice, and perfectly polished jet black boots. Yet, here he was, pouring out his deepest thoughts... Oh damn it! Where was his rational sense today! First the goth, then the guy, now taking to feet!

After regaining his composure, Heero decided his choice of action. He knew if he let this guy to his own thoughts without any thing else in his head to ponder, save going to hell, he would never be happy. And anyway, he had a feeling since he first set eyes on the boy locked in the stall that something was going to happen. "Who's to say you're going anywhere? Which ever god you believe in is the same god that made homosexuals in the first place. If god had something against them, he wouldn't of made them. The books were written by mortal men. It's the meaning behind them that matters. Most holy books preach women as lower than dogs. Is that true today? All also preach some form of love. If you care about someone, it shouldn't matter what they are."

A few rattling breaths came from the stall, "I just saw the person. How could I care about him? I never even met him. It's not physically right, let alone morally..."

"If it was in fact a girl, you still wouldn't know if you cared anyway. As for physically, discrimination is discrimination. If all you're in a relationship for is sex, there are ways for men to sleep with each other." Heero's smirked a little, remembering him and Duo just a few nights ago, "You wouldn't be so worried about this little guy or girl thing if something about the guy didn't spark something inside of you." Heero started to stand, "If it was an honest mistake, then that's all it was. Don't get upset about it. But, listen. Re-think your view. Listen to yourself, not just what everyone else seems to say." With that, Heero walked out the door, leaving Trowa and the toilet alone to straighten things out. The poor boy had a lot to mull about, and leaning his burning head against the cool cement of the wall, that's exactly what Trowa did until the bell for third rang.

One captain readied to call out the next name. It was Trowa's last period, Gym. Here he found himself surrounded by his type of people, but again, he just couldn't feel at home. No one knew him, and unlike what he was used to, he was starting to understand why the people last to be called always felt so bad. Another of the captains scanned the line again, already starting prioritizing the slim picking's he'd choose when the heavy gym doors opened.

All eyes seemed to watch the boy walking in with awe and respect. His entire air was composed and controlled, his face clear with a stoic no-nonsense look and his slanted prussian eyes were piercing and calculating. it was the same all-knowing boy that had passed him the first time he saw the boy.

Almost immediately, both captains shouted at once, "Yuy!" but the captain who's turn it was to choose smirked triumphantly, silently gloating his victory as "Yuy" walked over silently, and his fierce eyes scanned the room. The opposing captain gave a sigh of defeat and called over a short scrawny kid with big glasses. Great first day. Just peachy.

Trowa noticed Yuy lock eyes with him, and raise an elegantly thin brow. Then, he leant towards the captain whispering.

After a blink, the captain turned his eyes to Trowa as well, "Hey new kid. You were top scorer on you old team?" all eyes were now on the intrigued banged newcomer. He had mentioned that to G this morning... How did this Yuy know?

He was being called over before he even finished his confirmation nod, and stood next to Yuy, eyebrow raised. "G told me about the new classmate in her first period this morning. Your look is unmistakable." The calm baritone of Yuy's voice froze the blood in Trowa's veins and his eyes widened. Shit.

He knew that voice. It was the boy he spoke to in the bathroom not twenty minutes ago.

He knew. Damn, he knew!

Trowa's heart pulsed so fast he thought it would explode, he had no idea what to say. But then... He shouldn't say anything at all, since he would recognize HIS voice, and then everyone in the school would know. He was so stupid, he never should have said anything! Perhaps if he didn't say a word, Yuy would never know any different. Damn! But he couldn't stay silent all year! Already from his lack of speech, and odd reaction, Yuy was lifting an eyebrow in intrigue.

"...Forgive me." Trowa's confident deep baritone finally answered slightly reluctantly.

Then it all fit into place.

The new boy was the same boy Heero had met earlier. A quick glance at his seemingly relaxed pose, yet tightened jaw proved his suspicions. But the boy still seemed to be confident and controlled, completely unfazed to any regular onlooker, despite the fact that he quite realized he knew his deep secret. Heero had known he'd like this guy.

"No, Forgive me. We've never met. My name is Heero Yuy. It's a pleasure." he extended his hand, hoping the new guy would realize earlier would never be spoken of again.

Relief broke over Trowa, but only the relaxing of his neck showed it. The least he could do to the boy who was kind enough to keep his secret was introduce himself. " Trowa. Trowa Barton." Heero nodded, and passed the ball that had made it's way to his hands to Trowa. Giving him the look that had better prove that what he had said was true.

And within seconds the first basket was swooshed and the friendship was cemented.

Waiting for the car to come, Trowa perched on a brick circular garden at the front of the school. The bell had rung almost an hour ago, and yet, here he was. But he knew his father, probably still sucking up to someone, trying to grease his way up. he was the epitome of the superficial. He was never happy with what he had. He always needed the new thing, never enjoying what he had. Everything was about looks and how people thought about you. All to get more attention. He was polished outside, but empty inside.

"Trowa? Still here?" G's voice came from behind as she hauled herself up into the spot his legs had just vacated for her, his feet now dangling off the side, grazing the oh-so-fascinating cement.

He was jolted out of his melancholy as a penny hit his side and bounced off his oxfords, landing on the ground. "Penny for your thoughts?"

He decided against the real topic running through his head, a certain blonde and male topic, and looked into her black rimmed eyes. "I met a guy in gym named Heero. Said he knew you."

All of a sudden, G grabbed her black trench coat, feigning a heart attack as she dramatically gasped for air. "YE GATZ!! THE SILENT WONDER HEERO SPOKE! And to the OTHER, NEW silent one, no less! Feel graced, Trowa. Feel very graced."

Trowa looked to the girl next to him appraisingly, he seemed to draw him in. He liked her, she was different, and seemed to be everything he was missing in his numerous other girlfriends. "G?" He asked looking deeply into her black rimmed eyes, but feeling slightly detached for some reason, "Would you go out with me sometime?"

She blinked comically a few times, then bit her bottom lip slightly. "Um.. Trowa...Sorry, but.. I'm ...taken." She wasn't sure if she should go on. He might not take it well.

After a second where Trowa starred past her thoughtfully, he focused on her again, a look of perplexity on his features she'd seen on Heero a long time before. "Hmm.. odd. You would think I'd be upset... I do like being with you a lot more than any other girl I've dated... Hm... But I really...don't care." He watched the fluffy clouds go by with a little smile on his face, "He's a very lucky guy."

Oh! Now she just couldn't leave it like that. He 'd feel betrayed if she didn't say it now.. "Um.. Trowa.. I don't have a boyfriend..." He looked at her with an inquiring gaze, "I, um... have a Girlfriend."

Trowa's eyes widened. Everyone he met! What was wrong with all these people! Was it in the water or something! Why did he ever like her anyway!

Trowa had frozen and went pale. G shook his limp arm, and his eyes snapping onto her worried features, wild with confusion and indecision. "Are you...okay?" She tested.

Trowa snapped back to the present. Christ, he was scarring her! He hadn't meant to space out like that. After he smiled and assured her he was fine, he looked down at the ground again.

He opened his lips lightly, still not sure if he even wanted to know, and asked, "Can I ask you something?" Her smile and nod pushed him forward. "Why did you want to be...I mean everyone thinks that it's...uh..." He had started off confidently enough, now he was stumbling like a fool over words. He didn't stumble over words. It wasn't him! Now here he was, blathering like an idiot!

"Trowa, listen," She put a reassuring hand on his, just like she had to Heero when this had happened to him after meeting Duo, "It's a common misconception that we choose. We don't. We can choose to follow our heart or we can live in denial of our true selves for the rest of our lives. You can't be happy that way."

"I'm not saying anything about ME." Trowa interjected, she was making it sound like she was talking to an in the closet gay. Which he wasn't. "I'M perfectly happy. And I've had tons of girlfriends. I'm not a fag."

The last part sent warning signals flashing in her brain. Not only was he probaly gay, he was afraid of it. Never a good combination. Oh Shit.

"Trowa," she had to let him see not everyone thought like he was told to, but he had to figure it out for himself, "What does your family think about homosexuals?"

The tunes on the most stylish station blasted through the entire car. He had made sure he got the best sound system in his mustang. He was a hot man, he needed a hot car. Although, he thought that his son Trowa would be a bit more enthusiastic. He was so moody all the time! Like he didn't care what he wore or what killer sound system they had.

He had been talking to his new work mates about that today, a David Maxwell and a something Chang. They had said something ridiculous like different values and priorities or something. But he knew what is was. This was just his way of rebelling. He pretended not to care, but of course, like all jocks like his son was, he bragged about the new gadgets to all his friends. He just didn't want his father to know. He was sure.

He turned the corner to see the school deserted. Oopps. He hadn't realized he was that late... He'd make it up to him by hitting a McDonalds on the way home. Trowa loved McDonalds. All kids did.

He spotted his wayward son perched on the other side of the weird garden thing. Driving in, his vision was cleared and his brow rose.

His son was talking to some girl dressed all in black. She had short pointy black hair, and wore a long shin length black-red skirt. Her face would've been pretty. Except for all the horribly dark makeup. And she was short. And chunky.

Why was his son talking to her? Lack of anyone else better, or perhaps she was stalking him?

He waited a second in the parking lot until he was noticed and his son slid off the bricks panther-like and lifted the girl down smoothly like a gentleman, her body landing close to his.

Trowa stepped back, starting towards the car, "I'll see you tomorrow." The girl took a few strides following behind, and Trowa's father took his thoughts back. Even with the make-up, she was actually quite pretty... In her own, dark, way...

She grabbed Trowa's hand, and on her tip-toes planted a smootch on Trowa's cheek before striding away, waving behind her casually, yelling "Ja!", whatever that meant. Then his son simply shook his head, rubbed some of the crimson war paint off his cheek and his father saw the smile on his lips.

Whoa, his son never smiled... Maybe this girl wasn't so bad after all.

If she was with his son for a bit, she could clean up. She'd probably look okay in some normal clothes... Well, his son was still smiling lightly when he entered the car, watching her retreating form. Well, if he was still smiling he might as well give her the benefit of the doubt... She could clean up.

"Who's that?" Trowa's father asked, snapping Trowa back to the speeding car and changing the smile to his usual impassive face.

"Her name is G. I sit beside her in two of my classes." He was waiting for it now. His father would say she was a freak. A loser. Weird. Don't hang with her. He was always like that about everything he didn't think was normal. He made Trowa play sports, bought him Old Navy and GAP no matter what he wanted. She wanted to know what his father thought about gay's, simple: unnatural Freaks.

"She's not the type you usually hang with...but, if you like her...then.. i'm sure she can clean up..." Now that was not the answer he had expected at all.

His father shone a bright, con-man smile to Trowa, "I thought since I was late, we'd get some McDonalds to make up!"

Well, one shining moment of understanding eclipsed by stupidity.

One would think that after 17 years, he'd figure out how much Trowa hated greasy take-out. Especially from there. At least they had salad.

This was now his first time in the cafeteria. He had to make a decision again. Scanning the room, he didn't see any familiar faces, but he did see a nice empty table by a window. There. Decision done. Whomever happened to spot him first, he would sit with. He liked G, but he was still a prep... It was in fate's hands.

"Hey, Trowa." Nick, the football guy, and his tray found it's way in front of him. "You found our table. Cool. You know some of the girls have been asking about you," He felt Nick's prodding elbow into his side, "Especially Sylvia. Man is she a looker. Lucky prick."

Before he noticed, the whole table was stuffed and he had Sylvia at his side, her fingers dancing across his lap. He was starting to flirt back with her, fate had decided he would be prep after all.

Then he saw a line of black pass by.

Dropping Sylvia's looks, he turned to see G take a table a few behind, followed by Heero, who was again watching him with those know-something eyes, and a Chinese boy with a tight raven ponytail with whips falling into his severe face. G locked eyes with him, and smiled, giving a little wave with, as Trowa was relieved to see, no hard feelings that he wasn't sitting with her. She understood.

Sylvia followed his line of vision, "A real weirdo, isn't she?" she brought up, trying to regain her sexy new toy's interest back to her.

But the cold glare he threw her way was not the interest she had wanted.

"Awfully shallow, aren't you?" he commented dryly as he grabbed his tray, and got up from the table. He glided like a cat through the crowd and climbed in next to Heero, who looked smugly back to Silvia.

"Sick of the dead air coming from the queen of the blonde Bimbos?" G quipped around the sandwich she clutched in her flaking black polished fingers. Yes, he liked her friendship and would not tolerate someone who'd put her down like that.

Fate had decided. Just it decided he would choose on his own.

The Chinese boy sipped at his Coke, and waited before looking to Heero, "Where is everyone?" Then Trowa noted that the end of the table they were at was uncharacteristically empty.

"You know Itchy, the science rat. Duo got suspended for turning it purple. He'll be back on Monday. The office didn't like his excuse that Itchy was a 'stylish' rat or that purple was 'all the rage'." Heero finished with a light smile on his face as G burst out into hearty laughter and the Chinese boy snorted.

"Sounds like something Maxwell would do. But where is Cat?"

G chuckled, "You know Cat. He always takes everything upon himself. He was trying to turn the rat back white because 'the other rats won't play with him!' so he didn't have time to practice for his show. The last I heard, peroxide was an option."

"Cat's going to worry himself sick over the rat, and his performance. I'll make sure Duo pays him back for this." Heero promised, then breathed in defeat of the absentee Duo Maxwell.

"This 'Cat' sounds like a nice guy." Trowa spoke his first words and the Chinese boy looked at him as if realizing he was actually paying attention for the first time.

"He would give you the shirt off his back and the shoes off his feet if you didn't like the damn colour of your own. He's the kindest boy you will ever meet without a selfish bone in his entire body." The Chinese boy gave the exoneration without a blink and in complete seriousness. "Your hair gives you away as Trowa. I am Chang Wufei."

"But we all call him Fei!" G quipped into the conversation. Surprising the urge to smirk at the angry look Fei was giving G, he turned and saw Heero starring right at him, again smirking like a fortune teller. Trowa was about to ask him just what eh was doing, nicely, despite wanting to tell him to screw off. but quickly, the blue eyed boy flicked his sight to the wall clack sitting innocently atop the lunch room doors. It was only a few more minutes before class and Trowa still had to go to his locker, and figure out where he was going. He refused to ask where his class was.

Nodding his farewell, he left the table.

With his black messenger bag slung at his side and his notebook in hand, Trowa maneuvered his way through the surprisingly empty halls. It surprised him even more to find his classroom black and locked. Looking down at his own watch he cursed. The clock in the cafeteria had been wrong, he still had a good twenty minutes left! Heero probably knew that too, the prick. Grr...

So he decided that he might as well find his way around the huge new school. He really hadn't seen much of it. And he'd rather get stuck in a broom closet than have to ask someone where to go.

The first few halls looked exactly like the ones before, lockers, a few non-distinct classrooms, an occasional water fountain. Nothing new. But when he turned down a small bridge between two halls, the walls exploded with colour.

Murals all the way down the hall, even some of the lockers had painted pictures. One classroom had huge dual doors that opened into a bright, windowed art room. Turning he saw the deep black door across had a small practice stage and around the door were murals of Shakespearian plays. A few steps closer to the end of the hall, and something caught his ear, making him strain to hear.

A low, almost sullen sound trickled to his ear. Edging closer past another drama room, he came to the end of the hall where pictures of instruments and notes covered the wall. The tune had stopped, and now a quicker more upbeat song started on the ghost violin. It's perfect melody tempted him further into the room, the song's familiarity haunting.

He had just learned this song on his flute before the move. It was a flute and violin duet. Trowa listened as the first flute part came then left and only the ghost violin was heard. Then a wrong move sent a shrill note into the air and Trowa involuntarily flinched. He heard the phantom player sigh wearily, and a few seconds later, the song started up again much slower, as if being re-learnt.

Trowa considered just staying at his place just inside the door and listening discreetly to the talented player, but as the music started again and began to gain momentum to it's original tunes, Trowa had to go in. He had to see who was playing so beautifully. The song was beautiful with only one side being given life by this player, perhaps with the other side, it could be more.

He took a few more steps in... And a flute from a case laying open on a shelf came to his fingers and unconsciously he twisted it together as his strides drew him closer to the player and the flute section grew nearer. The phantom musician was close. As Trowa turned the corner, he wet and parted his lips and came toe to toe with an angel.


	3. Symphony

**Oxford's**

By:DentelleNoir

_**Warnings**:_ YAOI. CLOSED MINDEDNESS, homophobics, and superficial parent bashing.

Discalimer: Don't own the Gundam boys. If I did, I would probably keep them in a box locked tightly under my bed and only let them out to play once in a while. So be glad I don't because you wouldn't get to see them as much. Because I'm mean. Sorry. I just love my Tro-baby so much... WHAAAAAA!!!

**Author's Note:** **_This is a re-post._**The original was taken from the sight as was my original author's name when another story of mine was complained against. Use this as a warning. One complaint is all it takes and they kick you off right quick like!

BUT!!!!

It's also been added to in certain area's, some of the scenes taking on a different perspective. If you liked it the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

**Chapter 3 Symphony**

He blew the note into existence and continued his part clear and fluidly even as his heart pulsed within his chest as the no-longer-alone violinist closed his clear blue eyes again and played on. Trowa couldn't help but pour his fluttering emotions into the song as he watched the boy from earlier, the beautiful blonde angel with the clear blue eyes sway to his music. His feet, adorned with immaculately white sneakers with pen-drawn bunnies in blue and black on the side, lightly tapped the meter as the boy seemed to become one with the music he played. He bared his soul, his every whim on display. Trowa was memorized, and held captive by the boy, immersed in his music and radiating peace. His short, almost liquid frame swayed and hair so blonde, the lights created a halo over the angel.

As the song climaxed, Trowa wasn't sure if he could keep his notes steady any longer. Thankfully and sadly, the song ended, and clear ice locked with the deepest of forests. Trowa's feet were nailed to the floor. He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. Which right now, he didn't want to. Not away from this angel.

Quatre recognized the boy immediately. How could he forget someone as captivating as the tall green-eyed boy. He wouldn't admit it, but ever since he saw the boy watching him from down the hallway, he couldn't wait to get to talk to him. His eyes seemed so deep and yet sad. He could feel that he was yearning for something and Quatre wanted to help him find it. Hopefully that something could include Quatre.

Now he had him right in front of him and the slightly flushed look and rise and fall of his muscled chest made every beat of his heart come in tune with the beautiful creature in front of him. He couldn't say that he only wanted to talk to him for purely spiritual reasons.

No, that would be a lie.

The boy was absolutely beautiful, and Quatre couldn't take his eyes away. He knew what he wanted, the boy in front of him. And he always got what he wanted. But, he schooled his rampant teenage hormones, and brought his thoughts back on track. He was starring at someone he didn't even know. He had to introduce himself. It was now or never.

Quatre took a step towards the boy, and rested his hand against the taller music stand. Leaning casually, he hopped, he extended his other arm out in front as a hand shake. "I'm Quatre. That was absolutely wonderful. Are you joining our little third period music class? With talent like yours I can only hope."

Trowa was pulled from the wonderland the boy's soft tenor lulled him to, and jumped back to the present, "Forgive me for interrupting your song. I had to listen..." Then what the boy had said clicked into his head as well as reality. He was a _guy_. A GUY.

A guy that just introduced himself! "I'm Trowa. And no, I don't play." He said coolly.

Then he looked down and realized he was still holding the flute in his hands. He had just played! Damn, now the whole school would know he played! He had to play didn't he! Like he wasn't being talked of enough already! Now the whole school would know how he played music! Music! That was not a very manly thing to do at all! Damn it! He had kept it secret most of his life and all it took was this little blonde and his whole world started to crack.

A light giggle like a hundred harps playing sent ripples down his spine, and Trowa saw Quatre trying to suppress the rest of his laughter. "Do you mean you don't play in a class?" The angel asked. He had his slim pale finger's trying to cover his mouth as his giggles sent another wave of goose bumps down his arms.

Catching his line of thought, Trowa schooled his emotions, and quickly grabbed up the explanation Quatre had given.

Quatre... What a beautiful name... Damn! He had to keep his mind sharp.

Quatre had already leant in closer to Trowa. He noticed Trowa's music stand was empty of anything save a worn notebook, and smiled up at Trowa, "You should play" his eyes captivated his soul as if he knew everything that had ever entered Trowa's mind. "You're beautiful."

Trowa felt his whole chest constrict and his breath stopped as heat burst from his face at such a compliment. Damn it! He never used to blush before, why did he have to start now!

Quatre's feminine fingers flew to his pink lips and he turned red too. He didn't mean it like THAT!

"I meant you were talented. Your PLAYING was beautiful, " Quatre felt his bravery swell, "Although it's true that you are too." His long lashes opened slowly to capture Trowa within the glass depths that held his soul.

Trowa couldn't slow his breathing. He was so close. Too close. FAR TOO CLOSE! Trowa had to do something now. He knew he shouldn't want to lean into the boy. He knew that his thoughts of the sweet pink lip's taste were wrong. He knew he shouldn't want him...

"Trowa?" Heero's cold voice stated, shocking Trowa to reality.

Every muscle in Trowa's body burst and he ran with all his track days had taught him to get as far from the siren as possible. That was exactly what Quatre was, a siren! A test! A temptation!

He still had his bag over his shoulder, so he dashed down the hallway his breath still coming in short bursts as he turned the now familiar corners and made it directly to the bathroom and back into the same stall to retch his lunch again, purging his sinful thoughts.

Quatre stared at the spot that Trowa had just dashed from, completely confused.

Quatre could feel his heart ache and throb and he clutched his stand to keep himself up, lest Heero notice. He couldn't help but feel guilt. He had offended him. He tried too hard. Moved to fast. He didn't realize he had, he wasn't trying to scare him away. He wanted to weep from the loss... "Why?"

Heero turned back to evaluate the scene he had just been party to. Quatre looked like he was about to cry, and every fiber in Heero screamed bloody vengeance to Trowa for hurting Cat by running off like that. But unfortunately, Heero understood.

Where Trowa had stood was a music stand void of anything save the notebook Heero had noticed Trowa kept with him discreetly. But it was close to Cat's stand, and Cat was leaning close when he walked in. Although Heero knew Quatre was the sort of person who liked contact, innocent as it may be to him, Trowa's nature seemed quite the contrary.

"Quatre, were you hitting on him?" Heero, ever the blunt one, walked up to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder to reassure him from the hard truth.

Quatre's doe eyes locked with his long time friend's, "I thought that... By the way he was...Oh no, I hope he won't hate me..." Quatre's fingers started to fidget with something on Trowa's music stand to stop his knuckles turning white.

"Quatre, it's not your fault. And I think he is, but I also think he's phobic."

Quatre's hands flew to his mouth and his eyes widened in worry. "Oh, Heero! He'll hate himself!"

A small smile appeared on Heero's normally stoic face. Heero learned never to underestimate the selflessness of Quatre. He always did what he wanted to do, yes, but most of the time what he wanted to do was help. Anyone else would worry that Trowa would kick their scrawny ass in this situation, but not Cat. He was worried about how Trowa felt about himself. Now, he'd worry himself sick over someone he just met, like he always did. The last one Quatre fell for ended up taking advantage of his kindness and still, Cat refused to break up. Then, once he found someone new, he just dropped the unsuspecting Quatre.

Needless to say, the next day the guy showed up sporting his newly redesigned face, courtesy of Fei and him, although Cat didn't know that. And he never would.

Heero was beginning to like Trowa, and he really would feel a bit bad having to make him hurt. But not bad enough not to do it.

Right now though, his priorities revolved around Quatre. "Stop worrying, Cat. He's already coming around a bit. He and G are becoming friends quickly. Not to mention he seems to trust me. We'll set him right, don't worry." With a nod of finality, Heero turned and left.

Quatre mustered up his strength with a deep breath and brought his head back up, confident in what Heero had said. Looking to clean up his stand, Quatre noticed that left behind was a dark blue small spiral notebook on Trowa stand.

He slid in into his backpack for safekeeping. He could give it to Heero or G the next time he saw them to give back to Trowa. The way he dashed off proved he wouldn't be back there for a while.

Great, now he was depressed again!

"So, how was the second day of school?" Trowa's father turned down the music to a dull pound as his son bowed into the car.

Trowa slouched down into the leather seat, his tall and composed demeanor totally shot as his chin rested on his chest, starring down listlessly at his bag between his feet, void of his beloved notebook.

He realized he left it in the music room the minute he opened his bag, but he couldn't face going back down that hallway while _He_ was there, let alone go into the room.

But without the outlet the book provided, and knowing it was somewhere anyone could find it, left Trowa resigned to fate, and seemingly distant to the world. Hell, even his blind ass father noticed he wasn't his usual self.

He really didn't want to do this right now, but...a father's job is never done. "Bad day?"

Trowa didn't answer.

So, obviously he didn't want to talk about it. Figuring that was as good of an introduction as he'd get, he started. He had his own news! "Well, I was talking to Edward, you know, the head of the entire company, and the other department heads. They're all pals and they were saying their little missus's are having a... Tupperware or something, party. So they and their kids were going to get together on Friday. So, I thought, HEY! That's a great time to get in with the group. They are the higher-ups you know. And from what I caught, their kids are your age. You can make friends..."

Trowa blocked out most of his father's drabble. He just had the worst two days of his entire life! His entire controlled little world was crashing down. He was attracted to a boy. A boy!!

And now his father was trying to pimp him off to office friends.

OH! He just mentioned one had a daughter his age too! Lovely! And the elbow bump made his father's expectation's clear.

He was going through hell, and now he was expected to be polite and make preppy little rich friends he'd despise. The kids of the 'higher-up's' were always self-absorbed snobs that would peck at every little flaw.

So he had to show none, while he was tearing apart inside.

This had to be what Hell was like. And his father babbled on... About Mr. Odin Yuy and whatever-the-fuck Chang, can't forget the chipper Maxwell, and of course, God himself, Mr. Edward Winner, the Buzzilionaire who lived in this god-forsaken hell hole for God knows why!

And his father babbled on. Not even noticing.

Typical.

He knew he shouldn't of done it. It was wrong.

He should've looked harder to find G after school, but she did leave at weird hours and he had to get to practice.

But he still shouldn't have looked in it, it was a private notebook...

But he so desperately wanted to know about the mysterious boy. His eyes seemed so full of passion when he played, then so confused. From what Heero said, he must be in a lot of pain... so Quatre turned the cover.

Trowa was talented for sure. The notebook held some sketches and the poetry had him tearing. But the best and by far the most loved by the owner were the pages filled with music notes.

One of them stood out most to Quatre, its pages were smudged with eraser and thumb prints attesting to the work put in to the done, then re- done, notes that set the piece to sync, even the clef was drawn in. "Dark and Light" it was called and Quatre couldn't help himself as he let his fingers curl around his violin and gave it a respite from the same old piece he'd be performing to give life to this piece of work. And hopefully, he could experience what Trowa felt.

The next few days seemed uneventful for Trowa, compared to the first two. Thankfully, Heero had given him his notebook the next day, saying Quatre had given it to him, and the next few lunches were spent in the library doing research and trying to avoid blondes: Quatre, as well as the blonde cheerleader squad, and the jocks.

Sadly he knew at least one of the idiots would be one of the corporate son's he'd meet at the party that loomed overhead. They always were.

Before he could think of a really good reason that would opt him out, it was Friday and he was checking and re-checking all the food was ready, since it was his job to do the serving. His father dusted imaginary dirt from his immaculately clean black shirt and re-checked the music was programmed.

Three stark no-nonsense knocks echoed through the room, and as per duty, Trowa went to the door and his father pretended to do something important... Let the superficial festivities begin!

There stood a serious looking man with piercing cobalt eyes and deep brown hair. He nodded down to Trowa as his father, playing host, came from behind with a friendly welcome, "ODIN! You're the first to arrive! This is my son, Trowa." He introduced while giving the man room to remove his shoes, "Where's your son?"

Trowa had just made his way away from the small entrance to leave room when an all too familiar voice introduced himself. Trowa found himself locking his unbelieving eyes with amused all knowing cobalt eyes. Heero.

At least one person at the party wouldn't be absolutely base. And if he was just close friends with Heero, maybe his father would let him off the hook for the others. Hopefully.

With a trademark Heero smirk, he cut off Michael's introduction of his son, "I thought I'd meet you here, Trowa. How many Barton's just moved here after all?" Sliding out of the door entrance Heero started to make his way towards the living room, pausing only for a moment near Trowa's ear so only he could hear, "I can promise you, this will not be the night you expect."

A second car pulled in before Trowa could even formulate a question.

"Like clock work, " Odin commented, glancing away from his watch to the pair coming out from the white Hyundai. Nodding his head, he cleared the way for a regal looking Chinese man followed by the boy he had met in the cafeteria named Wufei.

The surprises kept coming. Trowa did not doubt Heero's warning in the least now.

Wufei arched an eyebrow at Trowa's look of slight shock, "Barton? Have a starring problem?" He retorted sharply, not sure why the new boy was acting odd.

Trowa's father shot his son an extreme look practically screaming 'apologize'. But Wufei had already walked inside.

Needless to say, Trowa was relieved immensely that two of the people were cool, they could most likely deal with the others. Now all Trowa had to really fret was the girl and the young Winner, who would have to be a jock.

So, set to fate again, he ventured to check the food platters away from socializing.

Not that there was much was going on, "So you boy's go to high school?" Michael Barton asked. He got a curt 'yes' and a 'Hn' in return.

Nope, not his father's specialty of people, but defiantly Trowa's.

"So, you boys go to High school?" Trowa's father tried to start up conversation, but all he received was a curt "yes" and a "hn" from the obviously anti-social boys.

Who were these people anyway!

They both seemed to know his son. That Heero seemed awfully close to Trowa... But they both seemed so... Weird.... He was starting to wonder what kind of people Trowa was meeting in this new town.

Odin was the first to notice the glare his son fixed on Michael Barton the second he had walked in. Heero had just met him, and already something had him mad. Odin decided to start a conversation his son would like and hopefully lighten the mood, "Duo's back to school on Monday, right? They gave him a week for turning the rat colors?"

"Maxwell deserved it. They really nailed him to the floor on this one because they all know that it was him who duct taped the Math teacher and his chair together. Just couldn't prove it since the little shit did it after class the day before." Wufei grumbled, while sitting relaxed in the deep white rocking chair across from Heero, who sat in Trowa's favorite dark blue armchair.

"Ah, justice IS served." Wufei added superiority, "I can't believe you allowed him, Yuy."

"I'm not his conscience. I don't control him or permit him." Heero responded, resting into the soft chair he was finding deceivingly comfortable.

"But he takes your opinion to heart. Especially if you say it strongly enough." Odin started as he watched the window, oblivious to the murderous glare of warning his son was sending, "You are his boyfriend after all."

A sharp choking sound came from Michael as he tried, unsuccessfully, to pass a cookie bit, his eyes wide and pale as a ghost as Heero's glare rounded on the host, then his father.

Trowa was frozen in the kitchen, his hand hovering over a tray. Heero was gay? He never told him he was a queer!

What would he have said to it anyway?

Oh, GOD! He had confessed how he felt about gays. To a gay guy!

How could he have been so stupid! He said all those things... All those names... And he had been talking to one the whole time! What had Heero thought? Maybe he was even hitting on him behind his back! Damn, he had liked Heero! He seemed rough, but he was genuine... except when considering his sexuality!... although...

Then it hit.

He never said he wasn't. Heero had tried to make him see reason and never seemed to judge him solely on that. Heero wasn't shallow or forever trying to be in fashion. Hell, he was the only one who wore immaculately clean army boots. They were his and his alone.

Trowa's eyes fell to his feet, and staring back were newly shined black oxford shoes. Trowa wasn't oxfords. He knew he wasn't. But still he wore them. Still he showed them. Still, he hid. Heero didn't do that... Trowa would bet his life, if he had asked, Heero would have told him he was gay. No apologies, no excuses.

Trowa decided: That was something to be proud of.

Trowa griped the tray, stood tall, and walked out to the charged living room.

Mr. Chang and Odin made a few exchanges, but the tension crushed any words.

Trowa put the plate down, and looked straight at Heero. His eyes stayed strong and true. No apologies, no excuses.

Trowa smirked over the resolve, "I was wondering why you didn't change in the locker room."

A harsh chortle broke Heero's ice glare and most of the tension left the room in a heart beat, but Trowa's father's continued look of disguised disgust still haunted the room.


	4. Light through the glass

**Oxford's**

_By:DentelleNoir_

* * *

_**Warnings**: _YAOI. CLOSED MINDEDNESS, homophobics, and superficial parent bashing.

Discalimer: Don't own the Gundam boys. If I did, I would probably keep them in a box locked tightly under my bed and only let them out to play once in a while. So be glad I don't because you wouldn't get to see them as much. Because I'm mean. Sorry. I just love my Tro-baby so much... WHAAAAAA!!!

**Author's Note: _This is a re-post._**The original was taken from the sight as was my original author's name when another story of mine was complained against. Use this as a warning. One complaint is all it takes and they kick you off right quick like!

BUT!!!!

It's also been added to in certain area's, some of the scenes taking on a different perspective. If you like dit the first time reading it, you may find you like the second better!

**Summary:** AU 3x4. Same mindless jocks. Same big-bested cheerleader girlfriend. Trowa Barton knew what was expected of him. And he wanted that too. At least, he thought he did.

* * *

**Chapter 4 Light Through the Glass**

A knock at the door to a little tune interrupted the small talk. Whoever it was happened to be about 15 minutes late, and 3 more were still supposed to show. Then another knock, a bit lighter and to a different tune sounded.

"Hey! I already knocked! It's rude to knock twice, Babe!" An unfamiliar male's voice came through the door.

"And it's ruder to call a lady, 'Babe'!" A girls' voice retorted. Trowa had heard it clearly, but his brain refused to think that he was somehow given a brake from the cruel fate of a cheerleader. But it couldn't be...

The door was opened, and his first site was of a heart-shaped face twisted in pain with a fishnet covered hand clutching a long chestnut braid. Following the arm, his suspicions were confirmed.

"G? What are you doing here?"

The braided boy, since the tight black pants and ever tighter black shirt proved it could be no other thing, pouted, and walked in. Immediately locking eyes with Heero, the boy pouted even bigger, "Hee-Koi! Did you see what that she-witch did to me!!?" He whined pointing an accusing arm and finger waving almost in between G's two eyes. Heero just rolled his eyes and motioned his intense blue towards the ignored host, whom his boyfriend nearly trampled.

Duo looked back, and gave a huge goofy grin while avoiding his Father, David, sliding in behind him and perching on the sofa annoyingly close to Wufei whom growled and pushed him over.

"Hello. Sorry! I was in pain!" Duo shot a glare at G who was busy removing her boots and setting the dirty, worn things next to Heero's.

The two were alike. Both took him for what he was and never passed judgment. Both were secure and stable friends. But, like the boots, each had different qualities.

Duo's were slightly odd shoes, they were short but with leather straps crossing, looking slightly like a cross if one starred hard enough. Two sides.

"Name's Duo Maxwell." He finished, cutting Trowa off from his pointless musings to shake his offered hand.

Duo strolled across the room and sat on Heero. Not beside him, not strategically close, ON. Then started to kiss the Japanese boy. Then he shot back from Heero, pouting and holding his lip. "YOU BIT ME!"

Heero simply glared back, "You deserved it. What the hell were you thinking, Maxwell? Because of that rat, Cat's been taking all his spare time to bleach it while you've been at home watching porn!"

Duo pouted a bit guiltily,"...Cat's not supposed to be in charge of the rat this week, that Relena cheerleader bitch that's been stalking you is.... BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BITE ME!"

"Yes, I did. Now I have to kiss it better."

"Damn it Yuy!" G quipped into the flirt session, "Find a Room!" The room erupted in laughter chorused by the two newcomers who had made themselves at home, completely oblivious to the look of mortification the older host wore under his fake smile.

Michael patted down his hair again and surveyed his room. The teenagers had congregated around the edges of the room and near the door, Heero and Duo sitting next to the back wall in a sofa chair and Wufei perching on the edge of the couch his father and David bickered at, Wufei looking ready to strike at any moment if need be, but no one paying much attention to him, he figured that was natural. Odin sat closer to Michael between His son and the Maxwell boy, also in a sofa chair watching the room with calculation.

After Duo had removed himself from Heero's lap, Michael started to lighten the mood by chatting with the adults about the absentee President. "They're always late. They don't mean to be, unlike the Maxwell's." Mr. Chang shot David a glare.

"Hey! We had to pick up G. She didn't want to be stuck with Tupperware like her dad and brother were. We did a good deed!" David defended the family honor.

"You're always late because of sheer bad planning." Odin cut in before Chang fumed back and the two tempers flared. Those two loved to torture each other.

"Edward is always late because eight things always come up on him or his son. They volunteer and help so many things, there is always someone calling." Odin added.

And with that sparkling introduction, a knock sounded.

Trowa, who had been chatting with Wufei about martial arts, stood as per duty, and answered the door to the shock of his life.

The man was incredibly tall, even compared to Trowa, with broad shoulders and he even had brown hair, but his frame wasn't as feline as Trowa's. He was definitely Arabic and wore a tastefully casual vest and matching brown pants over a crisp white shirt. But the shock was that...

Someone else had his screwed up hair style!!!

The man's brown hair fell over one side of his face just like Trowa's... Just not as long and free flowing. But the same idea anyway. What was the world coming to!

"Michael." With a nod, Edward Winner addressed Trowa's father as he slid off his shoes gracefully at the door and slid into a living room chair. Although he looked a lot like Trowa, the way about him reminded him of someone else.

Trowa was about to close the door, when a figure slid from the newly parked car. A thigh length cream colored double breasted coat cut a petit, yet regal, form and a matching cap hid the face and fair hair from view. Practically jogging to the door, the newest guest ducked in and pulled a case through the door.

Turning, eyes bright crystal blue, cheeks slightly flushed from the run, and smile radiant, Trowa again found himself lost in Quatre, breath gone and stomach twisting in a giddy sort of way.

Quatre gasped once his eyes fell to the beautiful green depths. It was Trowa. He looked even more beautiful this close. They were barley a hand away, the foyer being so small and all, and Quatre felt his flush deepen.

Composing his raging fantasies, Quatre found his tongue, "I wasn't expecting to see you, Trowa. Shall I assume you are Trowa 'Barton' then?" he tried to be charming.

The song of words yanked Trowa from his stupor and he gaped while stepping away from the siren.

Which was exactly what he was.

A temptation.

A test.

Trowa had to keep his thoughts clear of capturing his soft pale lips. He was not gay.

Those were the facts.

He stepped even further away and chilled his tone. "Come in." He squashed the beginnings of conversation and took a seat. Quatre set down his white running shoes adorned with the pen drawn bunnies beside Wufei's black martial arts slippers.

"We apologies for being so late." Edward started. He wasn't sure why, but the room pulsed with tension, "Quatre had his music concert, then work called. I had Cat sending the documents by E-mail on the way here. Please do forgive us."

"Of course!" Michael brightened at the change of elbows to rub, "You're so busy being the head of the company, living all the way out here must be difficult."

Edward nodded, "It is worth it, though. My wife thrives on nature, she hated the city. Down right refused to have her son brought up with so much cement and metal. She was right. They are birds of a feather those two, Cat loves to practice under the trees." With that Quatre blushed, still bundled in the coat in a chair near Duo.

"Take that coat off and why don't you play us your piece? I know the guys love hearing you." Edward good naturedly ordered.

Quatre blushed and hid under his fair bangs. But how could he refuse to "Go for it, Kitty, let's hear" and "Don't be nervous, Winner, it's only us for God's sakes!" Then of course he could not overlook the pull from G right out from the chair and standing. With her characteristic disregard for personal space, G shed his coat off for him.

Trowa couldn't peel his eyes away. Under the coat, his manila pants tightened onto his slim beautiful hips, highlighting every fluid move he made. He was also hiding a thin, flowing peasant shirt in cream white, the sleeves billowing back, slit to the shoulder so when he moved his slim, milky arms, the sleeves would frame his body like the wings of the angel he was.

Nervously, Quatre bit his bottom lip in the cutest way Trowa had ever seen as he announced the title then prepared his violin. He'd play the same piece he had heard him play on that fateful day in the music room.

Trowa felt a pang of something and had to ask, "Who was your partner?" He couldn't figure out why, but just the thought of another guy playing flute next to Quatre... watching how he swayed playing and witnessing the adorable pout Quatre gave when he missed a note, or the way he closed his eyes playing as if worshiping. Not that he was attracted to him in any way!

Nope.

It was Edward who answered as Cat shuffled music sheets, "A flutist a few levels lower named Dorothy. Cat really should find a better partner. She missed notes and lost the beat for a few seconds while Cat played perfectly. Overall she's average, but compared to Cat she's horrible!"

"Oh, dad." Quatre sighed as if this was a usual conversation, "There is no one my level at the conservatory... I might have found a flutist at school... But I don't think he'd play at a concert." Quatre glanced subtly to Trowa who refused his eyes, but was inwardly glad that not only did he think highly of him, but his partner was not a guy. Then he was angry at his relief.

But Quatre started to play and the music surrounded him. Washing away the anger and sordid thoughts he closed his eyes to experience the sound. Letting the player's image be forever etched behind his eyelids.

The piece was only one side, but still absolutely breathtaking. The last note struck Trowa with loss and he added his clapping to the applause already filling the room. Cat gave a blushed bow, and began to clean when his father spoke up.

The tension in the room had virtually cleared with the playing, and Edward wanted to keep the mood light. He would suggest another piece.

But Cat would only agree if he had practiced the piece recently, and because of the looming recital, he had barely touched anything else. Then it hit him. Quatre was working hard on a piece just a few days ago.

"Cat, play that other piece you did a few days ago. I only heard through your door, but it was breathtaking. I hadn't heard it before, 'Blacks' or 'lights' or something like that, right?"

Quatre gulped, and palled slightly, his teeth gnawing on his lip again.

His father meant the song in Trowa's notebook.

It was beautiful and Quatre did have it memorized. He knew he could play it. But what would Trowa say? Did he have permission? It was Trowa's song.

Quatre locked clear blue with deep forest. "Would you mind if I played it? It's beautiful."

Trowa nodded his consent, of course. Cat's playing was addicting. Why did he even ask permission? Perhaps that was polite or something?

The bow pulled slow but happily, like a smile and a nod. Light and fluffy, calm and strong, showing the light.

But the notes slipped sharp and slow. Mournful and black under the smile, hurt and torn by the dark.

Then a sharp change back to the smiles. Quatre even gasped with the change.

The lights on the surface, the real darks below, another switch, then back again.

Quatre's fingers plucked violently and his whole frame swayed as one side battled the other through music.

Then, as if the battle over, the low mournful note trailed in the silence.

"That was breathtaking." David whispered, voicing the thoughts of all.

"It's sad..." Edward commented, "It ends so monotonous. Sorrowful and painful, almost. But absolutely beautiful."

Quatre looked to the most important critic and practically broke out in tears.

Trowa sat ridged, not even breathing. His face pale, and his hands gripped the chair like a vice. His eyes warred between confusion and anger. He could not believe what he just heard.

"...Trowa?" Quatre tried meekly after all eyes had fallen to the odd looking host. Something in his eyes snapped like a dam collapsing and unleashing the floods hidden before. The anger covered his face as his eyes screamed betrayal and hurt.

"How dare you." The venom whispered across the room as Trowa began to practically shake with rage. "How dare YOU." He snapped to his feet and rigidly strode to the stairs.

"Trowa? Trowa, please!" Quatre begged, but the slam of a door was the only reply.

Quatre had seen the hurt, he couldn't take it all. His knees felt week and he tried not to cry out. He hadn't meant to hurt him. He thought he had allowed him to play it?

Cat hadn't realized he was crumpled on the floor until he felt Duo wrap his arms around his shaking body and coo soothingly while G pet his hair motherly.

Heero and Wufei both shot up after the shock wore off and their eyes burned at the spot Trowa had retreated to, out for blood. "He will hurt for dishonoring Quatre like that. And to think I was starting to like that rude bastard!!" Wufei seethed, Heero agreeing with his poisonous glare, and both set for the stairs.

"NO!" Quatre cried, "DON'T! It was MY fault. I shouldn't have played. I thought he knew when I asked. Don't hurt him for getting upset. I should've warned him better..." His whole body still shook, but his voice was confident and clear.

"I don't care WHAT warning 'ya gave, Quatre " Duo snapped, "No one has the right to act like that to you."

"No. It was ME who didn't have the right. I shouldn't have read his notebook or tried his piece, let alone play it for you all." Quatre struggled to keep a stern voice.

The room seemed to stop and blink, taken aback.

Edward, always first to recover, spoke, "Do you mean... that brilliant piece...was written... by Trowa?"

Quatre's hand flew to his mouth, mortified he let that out. Trowa was right to hate him. He was a horrible person! Even after everything he had already done, he couldn't just keep his mouth shut! He told everyone Trowa's secret that he wasn't supposed to know. 'How dare he' was right! Sobs wracked his chest in heaves as he crumpled further to the floor. He was horrible! A horrible person!

"My son doesn't write music." Michael interjected almost humorously, "He hasn't even touched a musical instrument since elementary school. He's not musically inclined at all; you should hear some of the stuff he listens to."

"Exactly." Quatre calmly added. Here was his chance to try and patch this up, "I didn't mean he wrote it at all. I was shaken... and misspoke. He doesn't write or play anything."

"Bull shit. Don't lie. It doesn't become you." Heero's cold voice cut like a dagger. "I was there. I heard him accompany you in your duet. He's an expert flutist. And you left me with his notebook. I saw the music too. Don't cover up for him." With that finality, the room was stunned into silence.

G pushed a cup of tea into Cat's shaky hands and glared Fei and Heero back to their chairs. She, Duo and David started conversation to try and give the boys some time to collect themselves despite Heero and Wufei's murderous glances upstairs, barely containing the urge to leap up and turn Trowa black and blue.

A few minutes had passed when Quatre stood, tea in hand, and started to the kitchen while G baited Wufei into a debate on justice to keep everyone's attention. They all needed a little comedy.

He gulped down the last of the warm, soothing, (but not as confidence boosting as he had hopped) tea and set his resolve. Quatre couldn't just let his and Trowa's friendship end like that. The last thing he saw was Trowa's eyes full of pain. He had hurt him and now he had to apologize.

Peeking around the corner to be sure everyone was focused on Fei's ever-reddening complexion as he flew more heatedly into the conversation, he slipped up the stairs, and hopefully closer to forgiveness.

He wasn't sure where Trowa was, but as he climbed he heard the low hum of music and rippling light reflecting off the navy walls. Padding closer, Quatre saw the source of light, and gasped at the beauty.

The wall had a large pane of glass showing dark blue, crimson, and violet fish swimming through the eerie dark world in the wall making the room it showed behind look stark black. A slightly moving black?

Looking closer he saw it was Trowa leaning almost against the other side of the tank as if starring at the wall behind.

Just watching his jerky movements, Cat knew he was hurt and upset and he just couldn't bear the thought.

He sank down to his knees in the hallway, eyes focused only on the snail at the bottom of the tank, exactly how he felt. Biting his quivering lip, he started out with a small and weak "Trowa?"

He had gone up there because he couldn't take Quatre's look, or his father's disdain. Trowa had seen Quatre walk by the tank on the other side of the wall, he could see him, but Cat couldn't see Trowa.

Quatre's beautiful hair practically shone with the light as he knelt before him with his white sleeves dragging lifelessly and beaten beside him, shaking with his trembling shoulders. The angel's eyes were closed as the shimmer of tears welled and slid down his usually smiling cheeks. Just the sight made Trowa want to run out and gather Cat up into his arms and never let him go. His for eternity. But that was wrong!

"Trowa..." Cat's voice wavered again, but he had to get his attention. He tried to still his shaking hands and stop his watering eyes.

The figure on the other side moved a bit. He must have heard him.

"Trowa please..." He begged, "Forgive me. I never should have read your book. I knew I shouldn't have... I just... I just wanted to get to know you so much."

He stopped another sob, "Every time we meet you shut down and turn away! I didn't know any other way. I'm so sorry Trowa... I don't deserve to know you..." his voice had become so soft and shaky by the end he had to close his eyes and wipe away the tears.

But when he opened them up again, Trowa had gone.

He couldn't see anything through the once clear deaths. Every thing was murky and cloudy and he couldn't tell what was what anymore. He truly didn't deserve Trowa's forgiveness... Burying his face in his hands his body surcame to the soft sobs again.

"Shhh..." A deep soothing coo whispered beside him and he felt a strong hand across his shoulders. Before he even knew what he did, he buried his tears in Trowa's warm chest, sobbing in grief and relief all at once.

"Shhh. Don't cry... Let's get you out of the hall." Trowa started ushering the distraught blonde to his feet and, half cradling the petit form, he led him into the room and away from possible prying eyes to the boys weeping heart.

The room was dark. Blues, violets, and crimsons adorned the walls all covered in a venire of black. White gray wisps led up to the beautifully smoke and dragon muraled ceiling.

Setting Quatre on the bed, Trowa continued over to a desk chair across the room and looked up at the ceiling as well.

"That's why we bought this house. My father is a superficial bastard most times, but when he saw how much I loved this room... Especially since I hadn't shown the least bit of interest in the other huge houses he'd been wanting... He bought it." Trowa explained. Half speaking to open up to Quatre as he had begged, and half watching the angel perch on his black comforter. He couldn't stop the lecherous guilty part of his brain that yelled how fitting he looked on it, or rather would look IN it.

Quatre's eyes trailed down the wall and onto the floor, avoiding Trowa. He wasn't sure what to make of him. Trowa seemed always calm, with a polite smile and happy friends. But this room, in it's darkness and elegance, seemed to fit him more. Sitting so far away with a somber look seemed to match the Trowa he met through his music.

Trowa's head turned and Cat was again trapped in the deepest forest green and not wanting rescue. But in his eyes he saw what he longed for... Forgiveness.

The somber tune he had been listening to before Quatre had arrived changed to a new song. Quatre's feet instinctively started to sway to the slow flute and guitar folk song, his soft pink lips mouthing the tragic words like a pained goodbye. Only the slow music filled the room and Quatre's eyes fell closed, his body gently rocking.

God he was beautiful.

Trowa stood silently, thankful for his stealth, and walked over to the humming angel. He hadn't noticed him yet. But Trowa was pulled into his presence; he had to have him closer. He reached for Quatre's outstretched hand, gaining a surprised breath as he pulled him up. Resting his other hand on the blonde's slender waist, he gave a gentle lead and began to sway him to the song.

Trowa rocked to his other foot leading the blue-eyed beauty with him. The heat beneath his hands grew as they gravitated closer. The sent of vanilla and the airy warmth of Quatre's breath on his collar consumed Trowa's world. The only thing that mattered was that Quatre was with him and he could hold him close.

The song slowed to a close and soon he'd no longer have an excuse to hold the angel; he had to act. He had to be closer to him. He had to be more to the angel. His face lowered closer to the boy's sweet breath as they both closed their eyes and their lips brushed.

Just a touch at first, like a whisper, but both needed more.

Quatre had dreamt of a kiss from the boy, but the real thing was so much more. Meeting again, they tasted each other's breath in nips and slow savory sips. Trowa pulled Quatre closer and Cat wound his pale arm around Trowa's neck, intertwining his fingers in silky brown locks. Pulling the two closer and deepening the kiss to a prayer they tasted and basked in the other's essence long after the song had gave way to a hard beat.

All too soon, breath became an essential again and the kiss slowed to tender nips between air, neither letting go. Breaking the kiss for the last time, Trowa rested his forehead on golden strands and looked into half- lidded blue as they both breathed deep and giddy, still wrapped around each other and all problems forgotten in the perfect moment

"I hope he didn't kill him!" G's voice broke their stupor as her heavy steps closed in on the room. Looking back down at Quatre's beautifully flushed lips the possibility of getting caught after what he just did was looking almost certain.

He jumped from Quatre's grasp and strode across the room, leaving the blonde a bit confused and hazy.

TBC


	5. Crescendo

**Chapter 5 Crescendo**

* * *

"Cat, Trow?" She warned, opening the door. Scanning she saw Cat standing a few feet from Trowa with lips reddened and cheeks flushed, then she turned to see a similar look of disarray on Trowa.

Smirking, she took a step in and hung herself from the door frame, "If you two kitties are playing nicey-nice now, you can come on a wittle trip." She sang, "Ma and the boys are heading out and we want YOU!" She mimicked the 'Uncle sam' stance and winked.

They both seemed slightly winded, but hey! Trowa was Latin after all, supposed to be great kissers and everything, she'd be winded too! And please, she was past grade one; she could put two and two together.

"C'mon! Get your scrawny ass in gear Winner!" She called while she grabbed his wrist and began out. And hey, with the blonde as bait, she knew Trowa would follow like the good little fishy he was.

"Hey G, are they both still intact? They didn't kill each other?" Duo hollered as they hit the last stair.

"Nope." G answered.

She grinned back to her chain of followers, and smirked seeing Trowa gulp preparing to face his father about the music thing, his hair up at odd angles.

She sprang into the "one more thing!" pose, and practically sparkled, "Oops! I forgot to check..." She dropped Cat's wrist and sent her finger's into Trowa's impossible hairstyle and starred into two astonished green eyes. Flipping the bang up, she gave him a reason for the hair to be messed to the standards it was that would not have his father glaring at the little kitten. Cat was already emotionally tense; he couldn't take that glare if it came.

"YEP! The cat didn't scratch out his other eye." She gave as an explanation of ...still... starring into Trowa's full face. "And, Duo! See. He doesn't have some weird deformity under the bang!"

Swatting her hand away lightly, he couldn't help but smirk at her bright smile. Almost as bright as Cat's...

"Well beautiful, we're leaving this old folks home. You're welcome and wanted, babe!" G said through bubble gum and winked at Trowa.

Trowa couldn't stop the chuckle as he nodded and started to follow the rest out the door.

A hand to his shoulder stopped him as that con-artist gleam his father wore when greasing wheels met him. "Put on my Armani coat. It'll impress 'em." He whispered.

Trowa felt an overwhelming sense of spite shake his mind. It was listening to him that had made him so afraid to speak his mind.

Opening the closet, he pulled out his plain pleather jacket he got at Wal- Mart for 25 bucks and slid it on as he walked out. Glad, because he loved this coat, and gratified with the outraged look his father had because of it.

The group was already gravitating out onto the lamp-lit street when Trowa strode out. Everyone stopped and eyed him. His recent confidence dwindled and he felt like the worlds greatest fool for not listening to his father.

Heero lifted an appraising eyebrow and was the first to speak, "Trowa, don't take this the wrong way, but, " His eyes scanned the black pressed pants and ribbed turtleneck now covered with the jacket, "You look sexier than hell."

Trowa just blinked.

G hooked her arm around Trowa's neck and pulled herself in, "We just need to get you some eyeliner and we're talking gothic god to rival Heero, babe." G said with gum snapping intervals. "Better watch it Yuy, Barton here may take your throne."

"Now, woman! Where are you taking us?" Demanded Wufei as the group meandered onto the street and started away from Trowa's house into the night sky.

"Pa~tience is a Vir~tue!" G sang back, practically skipping, unfortunately for Trowa's neck.

Michael Barton watched the girl and his boy together overtop of David's head. She was obviously weird, but connected. And although he disproved of the coat fiasco, the group leader, Heero, accepted him anyway. Yep. A father's job was never done when it came to pushing his son towards the right kind of friends. The connected and rich type.

Although this group was weird, he was willing to overlook it, since they were his boss's kids. Yep. He had steered him right. And Trowa had even found the Vice President's daughter on his own. He taught him well!

~*~

The wind danced Trowa's bangs around his face and kicked up dirt from the path they were walking on. Which he found particularly interesting, since he tried not to make eye contact with anyone, lest they ask him about... Well about anything that had happened that week!

Okay... He could admit that he had a slight inclination to boys before he got there... but he never thought he'd ever be in this position. The gay porn magazine was just... experimentation! Experimentation that he liked… But experimentation none the less. He was not gay.

But what about Quatre?

He was so sweet, he didn't deserve someone who treated him as badly as Trowa did. Hell! Trowa had gone up to him, asked him to dance, kissed him first, then turned around and jumped away from him! What was he doing! The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt Quatre. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted to make Quatre happy. Did he want to be with Quatre? DAMN IT! This was making his head hurt!

He decided to chance sneaking a peak at the object of his musings, and hope that he found he wasn't attracted to him anymore. But looking up, he froze.

Christ, why had he been such an ignorant prick!

Cat had his thin white sleeves bundled to his shaking arms, practically curling upon himself for warmth with blue lips shivering. In that thin shirt he was freezing to death as Trowa was starting to sweat.

"Christ, Cat! Why didn't you say anything?" He finally let out, bringing everyone's attention to the petit blonde who tried to act fine.

Trowa slid the coat from his shoulders and dropped it onto Cat, hugging him to his body while rubbing his arms for extra warmth.

"I'mmm mmmm Finnnnnne. Realll llly." His voice even shivered!

Sliding his hands into the pocket, Trowa pulled out a pair of thin black gloves and slid them onto Cat's barely dangling fingertips. Taking the soft pale hands into his own, Trowa rubbed and brought his rose lips to their tips and warmed them with slow, heated breathes sending a pink to Cat's pale cheeks.

Well, the evidence spoke for itself. He was more attracted to Quatre than any girl he'd ever been with. And not just physically. Cat was a beautiful soul and understanding to a fault. His smile lit up the world and his tears stabbed into Trowa's heart.

But he was still a little hesitant. What would his father do when he found out?

After he was sure Cat was set, he stepped back to his place and lost himself in his musings, weighing pro's and con's of letting himself be with Quatre.

~*~

"Damn it woman! Where THE HELL are you TAKING US!!!! We're only about 10 MINUTES from the God forsaken LAKE! We've been following you for over an HOUR!!!" Wufei blasted, despite his point that it was, in fact, past 11 o'clock and civilization now came only in the form of cottages dotted along the dirt road they were walking.

"Well then, Fei babe, We're only about 10 minutes away from our destination!"

And, as promised, about 10 minutes later they stood outside a moderately large summer cottage. Which was good, since everyone seemed a bit cranky from such a long walk. Even the ever energetic Cat and Duo stepped wearily!

G did a wave Vana White would've been proud of, and opened the door, letting the group of six shuffle into the pitch black hall.

G started pushing around to find the switch and Trowa felt a warm something tumble against his chest. The vanilla scent and the adorable little 'meep' when tumbled into him gave Trowa's poor angel away immediately.

"Click... Click, click...Click, Click... Click, Click, FUCK!" Nope, never good sounds in the still pitch black... in the middle of cottage country... at 11 o'clock at night... with no way back other than another hour walk.

"Well..." G's voice was controlled and calm, exactly why Trowa was slightly worried. "Seems the power is out... and since it's way out here, it's unlikely to be fixed until morning..." then her voice sang out, "But we have Can~dles!"

Shuffling through the parting of bodies, G strode past and around again, effectively knocking Cat right into Trowa's protective arms and she found her way into what could've been a kitchen.

A few drawer and shuffle sounds later, a dim glow emanated from the door and Trowa could make out his own hands again, which held a clinging Quatre, whom didn't seem to like the dark much. Perhaps because he was the one who seemed to get into people's ways.

Although Trowa didn't mind in the least that he ended up curled around him. In the dark. With nobody around for miles. Every lecherous teen movie set in the dark stampeded through his mind as light came to them in the form of G's candles.

She lit a large one and handed it to Heero; who was revealed to be participating in some of Trowa's previous thoughts to the obvious delight of Duo, who took the candle as Heero's hand were busy elsewhere.

Then, she handed a rather disgruntle Wufei another candle. "This is the worst idea you have EVER had 'Guenivere' Connalty!" He spat.

G gave him a twitch, "I will KILL my brother for telling you that. And I told you it'd be worth your while and it WILL be! My brother will be ditching the Tupperware and meeting us here soon!" Shoving the candle into his hand, she pointed her large flashlight up the stairs that had suddenly appeared, "Move Chang! Phone is upstairs!"

Shoving a pack of matches and a little candle into Trowa's hand, she galloped up after Fei and left the doorway in pitch darkness, since Heero and Duo went off somewhere, leaving poor Quatre and Trowa alone in the black.

"Tell me she left you matches..." Cat's pleading voice came adorably muffled from Trowa's chest, which moved as he chuckled.

Answering by expertly juggling his hand contents around until he got light from a match, he led them to a table in the cottage living room. Lighting a second match, he lit the small candle and placed it in the middle of the table, between them and illuminating the two opposite each other.

The beautiful, yet slightly mischievous clear blue eyes looked up at Trowa from behind Cat's folded arms on the table, "What do you want to do?" He asked slightly bored.

"Do you have any ideas?" Trowa guessed, catching Cat's look.

He smirked and straightened up, sliding the gloves back into Trowa's jacket's pocket before opening a drawer in the table by his stomach. Digging around with his fingers while his little pink tongue came out just a bit, he twisted and dug until he smiled and produced a worn deck of cards.

Smiling sweetly, he began to deal 5 cards to them both and declared the game poker.

Trowa had a straight, beating Quatre's gays, err, pair of Kings. The blonde just shrugged non-chalontly, collected the cards, and passed them to Trowa.

Cat slid off Trowa's coat, perching it on the back of the chair, and rested his creamy elbows on the table. "This is your chance to change the game Trowa. If you deal, you're committing to the end of the game. Those are the rules." Cat said seriously, watching Trowa shuffle.

It seemed a bit of an odd request, but Trowa didn't really care. Poker was fun. So he agreed and dealt.

Trowa beat him again with a two pair to Quatre's fold. But this win was different. "I lost again." Cat said, his voice not sounding at all disappointed then his hands disappeared under the table, and in one flurry of white, his shirt slid over his head, revealing his lean and creamy pale stomach, practically glowing in the candle light and begging Trowa's fingers to run across the expanse.

Then turning back from placing the shirt atop the previously shed coat, Trowa got a good look at his delicious collarbone, just defined over his heart. Trowa could see every breath from the angel make the shadows dance over his lightly defined chest. It practically begged Trowa to taste the sweet skin and run his fingers down-

Pulling his eyes away, hopping he wasn't caught drooling, he saw the smirk and mischievous glint the little devil in an angel's body wore.

The little shit had roped Trowa into a game of strip poker! Now he understood the glint! He had tricked him into the whole game, too! He couldn't get out! Damn, he was good...

The Cat reclined back, waiting for Trowa to deal, but also giving him a perfect view. Damnit all! Quatre was wearing low riders! His bellybutton and thin hip bones slightly peeked out, and seemed to tease him with every movement and tantalizing twitch, he realized how tight his own pants had gotten...

Quickly avoiding looking more, Trowa shuffled the cards again and dealt. He had been winning... Cat was the one half naked already... And he had promised to play through. He wouldn't let the siren win.

Despite Quatre's lack of poker face and Trowa's perfectly cool look, Cat still seemed to be able to read him like a book and have the devil's luck.

Six hands later, Cat still had on his pants and shoes, while Trowa reluctantly slid off his last sock and realized he was at his last hand.

If he lost again, he'd have to take off his pants... and the affect Cat in the candle light was having on him would become all too obvious...although Trowa had a feeling Cat felt the same; He kept shifting just enough that his hips and stomach would glimmer a little different in the light to glue Trowa's eyes back to the ivory expanse and hardened pink nubs.

The practical drop of his jaw when Trowa shed his own shirt made him feel like a God. While Trowa himself couldn't keep his eyes off Quatre, the Cat starred at the swimmer's physic and olive tanned chest Trowa bore. He wasn't Adonis or anything, but Cat seemed impressed...which gave him the biggest confidence boost of his life.

Trowa picked up the cards, throat dry and palms sweating, then dealt. He hopped for a good hand to postpone his fate a little longer... But had no such luck.

After picking up, he made a pair of tens and the bright look of Quatre told him he was dead in the water anyway. Cat laid down his flush and Trowa's pair was just that: flushed.

Cat's lips curled mercilessly sweet and he looked up to Trowa, "Stand up and take 'em off." Cat's wicked grin grew.

Trowa stood... but couldn't bring himself to do it... This was beyond embarrassing.... At least with his pants it wasn't so obvious what Cat was doing to him!

Noticing he wasn't doing anything, Quatre stood grinning ear to ear, "Need help?"

"NO!" Trowa yelped and jumped back from the shirtless and grinning blonde. But now a new game had begun.

Cat reached out as his mouse dodged further and further away from the candle's soft light.

But finally, he got hold of his prey's belt loop.

Trowa still stumbled away, only half-heartedly desperate to get away from the angel, who had latched another finger in the other side of his belt loops and now had Trowa's hips, which he held and rubbed as Trowa tried to wiggle away and stumble around in the silhouetted room.

He dodged left, then right, and rotated Cat in front to try and stop him from unzipping his pants, since the dexterous little blonde already had the button undone.

Through giggles and laughs they stumbled around almost blindly, continually stubbing and bumping into walls as Cat almost had his pants undone. Trowa tried to step him into another direction, but Cat's shins stopped while he didn't!

The soft upholstered couch arm tripped Quatre's legs out from under him and with a 'meep' he fell flush onto the deep couch, pulling Trowa's hips and sending him over the couch arm and grinding into him.

Trowa's arms braced. One beside flowing blonde tendrils as his other arm stayed at the boy's hips. But he was face to face with Quatre... Their legs intertwined and hips ground against rather sensitive areas of both of them.

The far away candle lent just enough light so Trowa could make out his angels soft parted lips and half-lidded eyes as he breathed quick and shallow under Trowa.

He couldn't help himself; it was calling to him...

Trowa closed his eyes and captured the quivering pink lips in his own, nipping, sucking and devouring the sweet taste of Quatre.

Cat's lips matched back, giving Trowa's tongue eager entrance to the savoury heat inside Quatre.

Battling back and forth, Quatre's aching arousal pulsed against Trowa, who obeyed with a deep grind and sent Quatre's head arching back in ecstasy.

Trowa took the opportunity and captured the pale exposed neck. Quatre was so hot under his lips, he could feel him writhering beneath him and grasping Trowa's back, pulling them closer.

Making his way slower and further, Trowa sucked at Quatre's neck, nibbling onto his collarbone to moans of delight from Cat. True, Trowa had a lot of girls before, but none ever responded like Quatre. He bucked and moaned and ground up against Trowa's arousal as he raked his fingers down Trowa's muscular back, arching at Trowa' eager lips, and begging for more.

Trowa's tongue rounded one hard pink nub as he practically held down the squirming angel. Quatre clawed at Trowa's already loose pants and begged them off. Letting the captured nipple free, Trowa eagerly complied and his pants flew across the room followed by Quatre's.

Taking some lead, Cat again captured Trowa's lips as they rocked against each other gaining a hard and fast rhythm of pleasure. Scratching down Trowa's chest, Cat found his hard nipple and pinched to the gasp of the taller brunette.

Leaving Cat's red swollen lips, Trowa went down to dip his tongue into Quatre's belly button, massaging the slender waist and running his thumb over the squirming hips of the angel.

Deciding, Trowa slid his thumbs under the baby blue girl's underwear Quatre wore and seeing no complaint from the boy, slid them off to reveal his manhood.

And male he was for sure.

Trowa again saw no complaint, and kissed the salty tip, tasting Quatre's essence to a moan for more while pale feminine fingers entwined in Trowa's dark locks.

Remembering how girls had done it to him, he mimicked, and took Quatre into his mouth swirling his tongue around his throbbing member and dipping his tongue to revel in the sweet taste of Quatre.

He readied himself, and took Quatre deep, almost gagging when he went too far, but continued to swirl his tongue and lightly suck. Finding a rhythm, he bobbed and swirled around Quatre while he clawed at the couch and his nails raked Trowa's hair desperate for more, driving Trowa insane with want. Soon Quatre's entire body was being held down only by Trowa's firm hands gripping and massaging Cat's writhering hips. Christ, he was making Trowa's blood pump harder than ever before. He wondered if he would explode himself!

Quatre's breath grew shallow and harder as his bucks grew more incensed and strong, urged Trowa on more and more.

Cat shot up before he was too far gone, and pulled Trowa's slick lips to his own and landing him atop again.

Need and hunger took over. Trowa's only want was Quatre.

Devouring his mouth and tongue they worked up a hard rock and continued the fight through hard gasps for air and needy nips and scratches.

Quatre clamped down on Trowa's hips, his nails digging deep into the tanned flesh and slid under the elastic of Trowa's short navy boxers, wrenching them down and letting Trowa kick them off, all the while mauling his tongue and kneading his ablaze flesh.

The rough, passion filled kiss continued as Cat shot his legs out from under his new lover and sent Trowa slamming into his now spread and waiting groin. Both men let out growls, continuing their kiss, and grinding themselves together.

Quatre groped blindly from the couch until the small coffee table came to his fingertips. Never missing a beat in their play, he wrenched open the drawer inside and clawed through the junk until his fingers wound around the tube of lube taped at the top.

Thank God G's brother Eric was gay and brought Fei out here with him all the time.

Trowa finally glanced at what his partner was doing and smirked like the devil he was. His angel certainly did have an evil streak in him... and evil suited him just fine.

Trowa lathered the oily stuff onto his arousal and onto Quatre's, then slightly tucking one of his digits inside to the cry of pleasure from the blonde... That education from the gay porn was sure as hell handy now.

Trowa inserted another of his slim fingers to stretch the blonde, ready for the slow process of making him ready," Yes! Mm! Go slow at first." Quatre's deep husky voice sent shivers down his spine with the heat of his breath on his neck and made his blood pulse even harder. Cat breathed deep into his ear and started to suck and nip, flicking his tongue across Trowa's ear, playing like a cat's toy. Trowa didn't care what he asked for, whatever it was he'd give it to Quatre.

Already positioned, Trowa merely pushed and he felt the tight muscles milking him. Sliding a bit out, he pushed again, further this time, trying his hardest not to hurt Quatre, who looked uncomfortable, but thankfully not in pain.

He slid out again and then back harder and further into the enveloping tightness, trying to hold himself back.

With one more push, Quatre screamed and arched up into Trowa, clawing his back and bucking deeper. Nothing had ever driven him this insane before and he became a man possessed, desperate to hear Quatre's scream of pleasure again.

He withdrew and thrust in again hitting the same spot that made the blonde's head snap back and his body tighten.

Wrapping the blonde's member in his hands, he pumped in time with his thrusts. Again and again, faster and harder with each thrust and deeper with each scratch and breath as the two rocked to their own pulsing beat. Screams of passion and grunts of pleasure filled the room as they claimed each other as lovers.

Quatre's body thrust Trowa into him faster and his body tensed. His breath ran short and hot as he gasped and moaned. Adrenaline and testosterone erupted with a scream of Trowa's name from the angel's kiss- swollen lips as his essence spilled into Trowa's hand and spilled onto their stomachs.

Cat's orgasm sent Trowa over the edge and empting himself into the tight heat that was his lover before he collapsed over the equally sweaty and tired blonde.

Finally catching his breath, Trowa pulled his blonde angel to him and sucked at his neck and shoulders, worshiping the salty taste and heat coursing through his body.

Quatre started to feel the chill of being naked and sweaty in an unheated cabin in fall and curled himself into Trowa while his foot searched for the blanket.

A deep chuckle echoed in Quatre's ears as a warm blanket was pulled down on top of them by Trowa's decidedly very capable hands. Before the two knew, they were fast asleep intertwined.

~*~

Trowa awoke feeling a warm lump against his chest who was adorably mashed into his shoulder, and blonde splayed around a tacky afghan sitting sideways over them. Then he heard noises from behind and voices, and he froze.

All the movement from his pillow woke the blonde and he gave said pillow the evilest glare he could muster.

But the fact that he was half-asleep, his hair sticking up at odd angles and pouty lips, he was about as threatening as a kitten.

Seeing the tense look on his boyfriend, so named since Cat would kill him by setting Fei and Heero on him if he wouldn't go out with him after that, he looked around and listened to the voices.

"SHUT UP! Some people want to go back to sleep curled up with their new sexy pillow!" Cat's mumbled morning voice broke through and the voices all chuckled.

"Heard you had one hell of a night, Cat," Duo's voice chimed, "and with this..." he held up a sock high so it could be seen from over the back of the couch, "I'd believe it."

"Damn, I'll tell you," A new voice to Trowa chimed in, "These two are vicious! I came in and they were too busy to even notice Makae and I! Cat sure as hell lives up to his nickname!"

"Shut up, Eric. You and Fei were louder!" G quipped in menacingly to her brother. "Plus, this whole excursion was just to get the two of them in... couch."

With that, Trowa sat up and glared over the couch, at least with him, mussed hair made him look even more menacing, "WHAT!" He barked.

Most of the kitchen table, revealed to be inhabited by Duo, Heero, Wufei, a dye-blonde boy with black roots huggling to Wufei, G, and probably the afor mentioned Makae (A petit gothish girl wearing a skirt and nothing but a crimson bra sitting at the table eating cheerios) all shrunk back at the glare, except Heero the glare king himself who only looked slightly guilty, but not sorry.

"It was obvious," Heero clipped in, "You just needed a hard shove in the right direction." Heero leveled his glare with Trowa's. This time instead of the look of omnipotence, he had a resigned and almost normal look. "It was your decision." Heero finished with a casual shrug.

Quatre shifted and sat up as well and caught Trowa's eyes, "Do you regret it?" He asked in a slightly unsure voice. But Trowa's answer was loud and sure. He smirked and captured Quatre's lips as he pulled him back down and draped and afghan completely over them.

"Guess NOT!" Duo chorused to the laughter.

~*~

Tired, messy, and sated, Trowa dragged himself into the front door and made his way towards his room for some much needed sleep.

"Trowa?" His father's voice came out from the kitchen.

Shit.

His father scanned his son's mussed appearance and hid his grin, not successfully though, "Someone got Lu~cky!" He sang, letting the smile grow.

Trowa's face took on a pensive look. "Yes. Yes I did."

He did get lucky, lucky he met Heero and G and even luckier someone like Quatre was a part of his life. Nodding to himself, he started up the stairs to his blessed bed.

"Uhh, Trowa?" his father questioned again, breaking his stupor. He was gazing at his son's feet encased in little white sneakers with penned on bunnies, "Those aren't your Oxfords...."

Smiling sincerely and grateful he finally understood himself even a little, he looked his perplexed father right in the eyes, "No," his lips smiling with finality, "They are not." And with that, he climbed into bed, and got some sleep.

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**~*~End~*~**

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**Author's **(long winded**)Notes:**

Well, there it is, my baby is over.

As you can probably tell, I'm still having some trouble getting used to this formatting, so there are a few (just let her think they are unnoticeable for now) errors. A few. (Yeah right!)

I just wanted to make sure people understand why I did the end the way I did: The whole story revolves around Trowa trying to not break out of his "Straight" shell, and yet knowing with all his heart (not mind, heart!) that he is not straight. He has such a hard time breaking out that if he didn't go all the way with Quatre right then, and hard, it wouldn't have happened. It was a little rougher than I would normally write because of that.

Now, left at the very end will have you asking: How does Trowa fit into Quatre's shoes?

Answer: He doesn't really, Physically, they hurt like hell on the poor boy and Cat is probably flopping around in these huge Oxford shoes until he gets home. Metaphorically, they still hurt like hell on the poor boy because it's still not HIS personallity, he just had to have something to metaphorically "cover" his lack of image now that he is no longer "jock". He will go through a phase where he is 'hard core' goth, fully immersed in what the other guys seem to be about. Searching for your place. That's the name of the game. But later he'll even out and find his own balance... If it all has a happy conflict-finishing ending.

It's for the reader to surmise really, that's why I ended it there. It's for the reader to decide when and if and how he comes out to his dad. How long do they stay together? Is Cat and Tro's relationship really going to be strong? The foundation was rocky...

Actually I'd like to hear what you guys think should be the "Ever after".


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